On Tuesday my dear friend Emily Chidalek came in to visit me after working a stint in a summer stock theatre in Nebraska. We hadn’t seen each other  in 3 months and, let me tell you, the reunion was sweet.

After a long night of drinks, $2 tacos, trying to explain our love for Ann Law to our friend James, and giggles in bed till 4am, we woke up the next morning and got to work.

There’s a thrift store just a block or two away from my apartment that I have been dying to pick to the bones, and Emily was just the lady for the job. We got in, divided, and concurred. Emily reported back with the weirdest short sleeve men’s button down and floral printed denim pants I ever did see (that may or may not have been missing a button), and while I must admit a tinge of jealousy I did not walk out empty handed. In my possession I currently have 1) a tan floral embroidered chunky grandma sweater and 2) an OVER sized gold glitter Whitney Huston inspired knit top.
Riding on the tidal wave of glory and floral print patterns we neglected to realize that said thrift store  is, as so many Chicago establishments tend to be, cash only. Emily and I, being from the “plastic” generation, were completely unprepared for this. Rather than leave these treasures behind we emptied out every nook and cranny of our grossly unorganized purses and began to rally every coin or crumpled up dollar we could muster. After about eight minutes of coin collecting we had gathered all we could find, and I was still ¢61 short.
Just as I was about to take to the streets with an empty Dunkin’ Doughnuts cup and and sob story about how my entire wardrobe had been burned in a fire and “for just ¢61 YOU SIR could clothe the poor”, a strapping young fella came to our rescue from across the store with a crumpled up dollar and kind smile.

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We made it home with just enough time for Emily to show off her new purchase in a little shoot on my back porch. Of course, just enough time turned into too much playing around and after running 3 blocks in the wrong direction and 7 blocks in the correct direction Emily missed her train and I had 4 new blisters. Alas, CITY LIVING.
It is with great pleasure, and mild confusion, that I give unto thee “What the Hell Wednesday”. We wore what we wanted, most of it didn’t make sense, but we sure as hell felt cool and that’s good enough for me.